


The Difference Between Fifteen Sixteenths (And The Rounded Inch)

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	The Difference Between Fifteen Sixteenths (And The Rounded Inch)

"Dude, _how_ do you even wear it this low." Patrick looked, dare he say, ridiculous with Joe's guitar on. He hadn't adjusted the strap, so the guitar slung by his knees. "It's not that low on me! It's like, normal length. You're just short." Joe countered, side-eying Patrick's guitar, which was propped against his amp. "You gotta try mine on now." Patrick pointed. The movement bounced Joe's guitar around his knees, bringing more attention to how low it was. 

 

Joe struggled to put on the guitar without adjusting the strap. "It's like putting on a shrunken shirt." Joe snaked one arm over the body of the guitar. "I don't even want to know why you know what that's like." Andy passed the guitarists, kick drum in hands, making his way towards the stage. Well, it was more like an exaggerated tier than an actual stage. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. I-Can-Afford-To-Buy-More-Sweaters-If-One-Shrinks-In-The-Dryer." Joe pulled the strap over his head, finally getting it to his shoulder. 

"We make the same amount of money, Joe. Which isn't a lot. And you still live at home." Andy added, going back for his floor tom. Joe stuck his tongue out. "I feel lame."

 

Patrick wasn't discreet about his amusement. "You look like you're playing a toy guitar." The guitar was at Joe's armpits. It felt more like a necklace than an instrument. "It's so high up. Look-" Joe's right arm went at a near 45 degree angle as he tried to strum it. "It's like the freakin' Beatles. Look, Pete! I'm John Lennon! How do you do, luv?" Joe called to Pete in his worst Liverpudlian accent. "I'm going to die of secondhand embarrassment." Pete, who had been helping Andy set up his drums, turned and held his hand in front of his face and repeated 'I don't know them', trying to get a laugh out of Andy or the stage manager. 

 

"We should play like this." Patrick turned his torso and hips left and right, Joe's guitar swinging around his legs.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. Can you even reach the frets?" 

Patrick stretched his fingers in vain. "Scratch that. You can't even reach the fretboard."

"I have a condition." Patrick argued, obviously lying.

"Yeah? What's that? Chronic hobbit? I hear it affects 3 in 4 musicians." Joe barely got out the last sentence before he started running, Patrick lunging after him. "You're too tall to be a storm trooper!"

 

They'd finished soundcheck and resigned to the side of the stage, where Pete was the only one drinking because Andy specifically said he wasn't having any and Joe and Patrick still had the marks of shame on the backs of their hands, no matter how much it had sweat off. Joe was still lightly teasing Patrick about the height difference, when the talent buyer- the guy who'd gotten them the gig in the first place- decided to add his two cents. "Yeah, I bet he's so short he can't even reach the mic." 

Joe noticed almost immediately how Patrick went from comfortable to not so much. He looked down at his lap and pretended to pick at his jeans. Or maybe he was, they were horribly ripped in the knees. Joe glared at the guy.

"Pick on someone your own size, buddy."

The talent buyer- Gary? Was that his name? Greg?- narrowed his eyes at Joe before scoffing and standing up. He muttered something about going to check on the headliner, or the 'real money makers' as he called them. Joe looked back at Patrick, who smiled at him from under the brim of his trucker cap. "Thanks." He mumbled, going back to picking at his jeans. Joe wanted to hold his hands.

 

The show didn't go _as_ well as it could have because _somebody_ couldn't stop jumping off the amps even after that _somebody_ was specifically told by the stage manager to not jump off any equipment. So the drive to the next gig had that _somebody_ whining in the passenger seat that, since he had his driving privileges revoked, he should at least be able to pick the music. Joe and Patrick watched Andy shake his head, doing his best to ignore Pete complaining. It was amusing, but Patrick could feel himself getting sleepier. Driving around in the van at night could put him down surprisingly fast. While he lied down on the seat, he grabbed Joe's arm and tugged him along. "Okay." Patrick could hear the smile in his voice.

 

Joe's chin rested comfortably on Patrick's head and he really, _really_ liked how his arm draped over Patrick's stomach. Cliche and cheesy as it sounded, it just felt right. Even though he was younger, he felt a sense of responsibility when he was around Patrick. Maybe it was the height difference. Joe had to pull his legs up to fit them comfortably on the seat of the van and behind Patrick's knees, who fit on the seats just fine. Nah. Definitely not the height difference.

 


End file.
